


I'm a nervous wreck

by thatchickwiththepigtails



Series: Cute Pokémon Guy [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music Store, Fluff, I tagged as deaf pete because i'm stupid and not thinking, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pete is mute, Who Knows?, gabe is here because i don't know how to write without him, in case i keep writing, mute character, not me! (yet), now i understand all those "i don't know how to tag" tags, patrick is an oblivious shit, so many cameos i don't even know, so thank the gods for brendon and joe, will they become important characters?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatchickwiththepigtails/pseuds/thatchickwiththepigtails
Summary: He just goes for his usual spot next to the window on the back row looking at all the familiar faces: bored people wanting to get home, kids with backpacks chatting the school away. Patrick's been taking the same bus at the same hour for almost a year now so he recognizes everyone but a man, a black haired guy in a Metallica t-shirt that is looking at his phone on the row before his.Or that time Patrick's day isn't as boring as usual (+ he relearns how to read)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've dared to post so don't kill me too much, please  
> title taken from fob's "West Coast Smoker" in anticipation of what i'd write if i wasn't living on a permanent writer's block

A new shift at work that ends and another evening that finds Patrick tired, hungry and hating life in general. It's not like he doesn't like his job at the music store: it gives him plenty of time to practice piano, and his coworkers are goofy but still good friends. That doesn't mean that Patrick doesn't hate getting up so early to take the train that will then get him home too late in the evening to enjoy the day, though. He hates this with passion, and knowing that tomorrow he'll have to wake up at 6 am to repeat the process only makes it worse.  
5:30, 5:31, 5:32, 5:36... The bus that takes him to the train station is running late, he didn't eat enough at the lunch period and the sun shining makes him feel like he's boiling inside the black coat he desperately needed this morning. When the bus finally arrives, he's already considering a full striptease if it wasn't for the people. Instead, he just goes for his usual spot next to the window on the back row looking at all the familiar faces: bored people wanting to get home, kids with backpacks chatting the school away. Patrick's been taking the same bus at the same hour for almost a year now so he recognizes everyone but a man, a black haired guy in a Metallica t-shirt that is looking at his phone on the row before his. When Patrick gets to his side, the stranger looks at him, smiles and goes back to his phone. A sad smile, the blonde guy thinks before plugging his headphones and discovering his iPod is out of battery. Wow, the two hours train ride is gonna be tons of fun.  
He lets his eyes wander and land on the tattooed arms of the smiling man, following the black patterns and the drawings and the Jack Skelington that ends in a lock, going all the way up to the rattata in his phone screen. Really? Patrick holds his laugh; it had been months since the last time he's heard his nephews talking about Pokémon Go, and now there is this fully grown up man feeding a purple rat like there's no tomorrow. But there's nothing better to do, so Patrick keeps watching as this man tries to evolve his creatures, answers a few texts and even manages to catch a zubat across the street with the bus still moving.  
Finally, when Patrick gets out of the bus, Pokémon guy looks through the window and waves at him enthusiastically. He just stares at him blankly before running towards the train as fast as he can, scared to miss it. He fortunately doesn't, so he takes his usual spot on his usual wagon and gets ready for his more-boring-than-usual ride home.

The next day is Friday and Pokémon guy is wearing an Iron Maiden sweatshirt, sitting in the same place again, smiling at him again and playing with his phone again. This time Patrick smiles him back and notices the wrinkles that form next to the guy’s dark eyes almost like he’s silently laughing and wow, dude’s kinda cute.  
Just like yesterday, the guy is playing Pokémon and Patrick gets a good look at his impressive collection made exclusively of at least thirty rattatas and that single zubat. Patrick doesn’t know if he’s just really bad at catching anything more uncommon or just fond of purple rodents, but the tattooed guy seems to be petting them so probably the latter. This time, Patrick waves at him from outside the bus and hums his way to the train. It’s going to be a good weekend.

“Patricio, you’re lost again”, Patrick’s good friend Gabe likes to throw in some Spanish here and there, “I’m talking important shit here and you’re not listening, amigo”  
“Mmmh?” Patrick answers, “Sorry, I was just thinking”  
“Something important, I guess”  
“Yeah, no… It’s just… Do you think it’s too late to start playing Pokémon?”  
"You're young, do whatever cojones you want. But also it's 2017, please don't embarrass yourself." The Uruguayan starts protecting himself with a pillow, laughing, way before his friend jumps over him with a killer look.

On Monday the guy's not there and Patrick gets home in a bad mood. On Tuesday they see each other before the bus stops and the blonde one relaxes without knowing how tense he was. The guy repeats last week's actions: smiling, playing, texting, waving, leaving Patrick's mind floating and wandering through the black designs.  
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday turn their shared acts into habits. Saturday and Sunday turn Patrick into a daydreaming mess and Gabe in the king of repeating-everything-I-say-to-you-like-a-thousand-times-cabrón-listen-to-me!

Even Brendon and Joe, his coworkers, start to tease him every time his head gets in the clouds. They create a drinking game based on how many times he checks the hour, writing it down so they can translate it into shots on the next night out. Joe stops counting when he considers he might get alcohol poisoning twice.  
Finally, the clock strikes five and Patrick tries not to run outside, failing so spectacularly Brendon makes a mental note to stop teasing and start questioning him tomorrow. When the bus comes Patrick can see there are three kids sitting in the back row. In his row!! He pays, angry and worried, not wanting to admit he's gonna miss the purple bat. Okay, maybe he can grow a pair and sit next to Cute Pokémon Guy, maybe today will be the day. But when he gets to CPG's side, this time on the third-to-last row, his usual seat is vacant so Patrick can still sit behind him. And watch him play. And admire his neck. Today he's wearing a Guns’n Roses loose shirt that looks like he might have cut himself, revealing part of a back tattoo: ribbons, something similar to an arrow’s end and maybe a couple letters. Every time Patrick discovers new ink on this guy he keeps thinking about it for days, memorizing every single beautiful detail.

“I swear it’s not that hard to understand! There are seventeen rows, so imagine you always sit on the sixteenth, right window side. And there’s this guy you haven’t spoken to but you know he prefers back row, right window. Now, today his seat is taken, and for some reason you decide to sit on fifteenth…” Brendon looks at Patrick with terror in his eyes, like he’s growing a third ear in his cheek, when Joe passes by overhears them.  
“Fifteenth row, right window side? You talking ‘bout bus seats?” he interrupts.  
“Yes, I was trying to tell him about this guy on my bus…”  
“Bus? Dude, I thought you were talking about class seat arrangements, but you’re worrying about the bus?” Brendon’s fear turns into confusion while Patrick gets more and more frustrated.  
“You didn’t even get that? God, this is why I never tell you important stuff, you know?”  
“Anyway, bus seats.” Joe gets in the conversation “What’s up with ‘em?”  
“It’s just… There’s this guy”, Patrick starts again “who changed seats so I could be comfortable and I don’t know if he did it on purpose or if he just got bored of sitting on the same spot.”  
“That is the single stupidest worry I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard the boss worrying about his hair not matching his underwear.” Joe states before leaving them to probably gossip with their red-haired boss, Gerard.  
Brendon doesn’t take Patrick’s question so lightly and continues inquiring “How does he look?”  
“Huh?”  
“This polite guy. How does he look like?”  
Patrick’s face turns pink when he smiles and answers “He has black hair, quite short. And he’s covered in tattoos like, not covered-covered like Joe, but has a lot. And he’s into rock and Pokémon and when he smiles his eyes brighten up like he’s watching the Sun and…”  
“And you haven’t talked to him yet?” his friend interrupts.  
“Why would I?”  
“You just said “when he smiles his eyes brighten up like he’s watching the Sun” and your eyes brightened up like you were watching the Sun, dumbass.” With that, he leaves to attend a new customer while Patrick realizes a lot of things.

That same day at the bus, they keep their routine and Patrick goes to the back to think about everything: about life, about tattoos, about what having a crush means, about so many what ifs… But he definitely doesn’t say anything to CPG. The same way he doesn’t do it the next day.

Thursday finds Patrick admitting to himself that he has a crush on a guy he’s never talked with, a guy that loves purple rats and metal bands, a guy who’s not on the bus.  
What happened to him? Why is he skipping random days? Maybe he doesn’t work the same hours every day. And who says he takes the bus for work? Does he go visiting a girlfriend? And today she’s probably the one traveling to his place. Fuck it; he’s just a polite straight guy; who has a crush on a cute straight guy? That’s so cliché. Patrick’s mind runs fastest than ever while he heads to the back, even faster than this man on the street desperately signing the driver to wait for him…  
And he gets in. CPG is sweating and panting but also smiling. Smiling at Patrick, as always; and sitting right before him unlike a man with a girlfriend would do, says Patrick’s mind racing the opposite direction now; straight guys avoid any contact with other guys; you can do this, go talk to him now!!!!  
“Thank you for saving me your seat the other day” somehow the blonde one manages to lean forward and emit articulate words. The guy with the Skellington in his arm doesn’t turn; instead, he opens a notes app on his phone, gets it up so Patrick can see it and writes with giant lettering:  
“ur welcome ;p couldn hear u if I didn’t move”  
“Hear me?”  
“ur humming” the guy turns around, still holding his screen towards Patrick “ur always with ur music on, aren’t cha?”  
“Uhm, I didn’t know I was so loud.”  
“’s ok, I like it loud” both men blush furiously, the brunette one typing so fast his fingers are a blurr “fuq I didnn meanbit like that sorrysorry I mean u sound so sweet”  
Patrick’s cheeks get even redder as he fumbles an answer “That’s, uhm… Well, so… Is that a Backstreet Boys t-shirt?”  
“only the greatest can touch dis body also pleaseignore those words”  
“For what I saw I thought you were more of a rock kind of guy.”  
“u impliying bsb aint THE BEST ROCK BAND EVER? Cuz I will fuk u up if ure” he writes smiling widely. “wat are u anyway? A purist? Only the most sacred rock can penetrate ur ears?”  
“I’m ignoring that one too. But if I was, a purist, I mean, what would my deadline be?”  
“deadline ºoº?”  
“Yeah, when do you think rock died for me?”  
Patrick’s having so much fun right now. The guy just types a “lemme think” and gives him a long head-to-toes look, not answering for a couple minutes.  
“rocks ded since we don’t use rocks for makin music. U still like music tho but think of it as post-modernist baroque shit!  
“Why baroque?”  
“cuz was the first thing I could think of. But donnut worry hun, rock may be dead but ur voice’s savin it”  
Patrick doesn’t hear the last part, he’s too busy bursting into laugh, his body moving and rocking back and forth “Okay, okay” he manages to talk in between fits of laugh “What about you? Why are the Backstreet Boys so important to rock history?”  
“u kidding me????? Epic rivalries and party songs and generational anthems and and and idek how theyre not rock gods to everybody” The man gets emotional while explaining his view, as Patrick involuntarily continues the song:  
“Yeah, rock your body, yeah”  
“that my point” he smiles sadly again, looking through the window. “don wanna sound weird but im pretty sure ur stop’s next”  
“Yeah, I should get going. I’m Patrick, by the way.”  
“pete’s da name, wentz the mess for me frendz which now u’re 2!!!!”  
“I will gladly call you my friend, Pete, even if I barely understand your writing. Will I see you tomorrow?”  
“yes plz ;)”  
Outside the bus instead of waving, Cute Pokémon Guy (Pete, he has name) holds up his phone showing him a gif of Nick Carter dancing in costume: “Am I sexual? (yeeeeeah)”. Patrick just rolls his eyes and waltzes his way to the train. Damn, that song really is catchy.


	2. Chapter 2

"We still up for tonight?" Joe asks as a greeting on Friday, "I'm buying all those damn shots and I'm drinking 'em with or without you."

Patrick winces "Oh, shit, I fucked up. I forgot"

"You forgot as in "great! Now I have plans" or more like "Imma leave you hanging"?

"No! No, no. I'll figure it out. We're definitively having your shots tonight" Patrick frowns trying to form a plan that will let him go see Pete and drink with his friends. His eyes dart unknowingly towards the clock, making Joe chuckle: the chances of getting really drunk are so, so high...

 

"Your place at 7, 'm running errands!" Patrick shout in the general direction of Joe's afro while catching the bus.

"Hope you don't exp...!" the door shuts so the blond doesn't hear anything else. Pete is already waving at him with a wide smile on his face, so Patrick goes to sit behind him.

"mah buddy! why ain'ya sittin with me? :("

"I prefer window, I get carsick pretty easily" Patrick explains. "And after a day of being locked, even this shitty view saves me."

"aaaaww, my sweet child, why u hidin' ur cute face??" Pete is pouting and making a show out of looking sad. The other one notices the blush starting to creep on his ears; Patrick is sure he flirts with all of his friends, but he still thanks God Pete is looking at the screen. "when u could b at da park. or a model ;)"

"Yeah, sure" mutters Patrick. "Nah, I work at a music store: great for chatting, not that much for fresh air."

"so u're a manager? assistant? clerk? owner?" Pete stops writing options when a pale finger signals "clerk". "and u live out town i 'spose"

"Evanston, lovely little boring place"

"sound lik wilmette if u ask me"

"That's close, right? So, how did you end up here?"

"found a flat closer 2 where my gf's was" Pete's typing gets interrupted by Patrick trying to be casual:

"You have a girlfriend, huh?"

The tattooed guy place his index on top of the "was" and shrugs:

"'s close 2 work now" "Where do you-" "insurances salesman"

"You?" Patrick isn't as good as hiding his astonishment as he thinks, his brows briefly meeting his baseball cap, so he jokes to cover it. "But I thought you were gonna be the new revolution of rock!"

"i will b, hun. ill b a star, dont worry" Pete seems to get lost on his thought after that, so Patrick relaxes on his seat and puts on his headphones. After a couple stops humming without noticing, Pete pats him on the shoulder making him jump out of his skin and shoving his phone under his nose:

"u and i will b stars, babe. also gimme ur number so were officially frendz (⊙ꇴ⊙)"

Patrick smiles, his heart still racing half scared and half excited, "May I?" he asks while taking the phone and going to the agenda. After a quick exchange of numbers (and Pete saving his name with at least five emojis) the blond rushes out giggling like a fool and stops to wave him goodbye. He immediately jumps into another bus going the opposite direction and sends Joe a quick "I'm starving" text.

 

"I told you not to expect dinner, you son of a bitch" Joe receives him twenty minutes later with an angry glare and three pizza boxes still steaming in his hand. "You're lucky daddy loves us"

"Thanks, daddy" Patrick answers helping his friend with the pizzas and sits on the ratty couch facing a red-haired, red-bearded, buff-bodied, tattoo-covered Andy, "you're too good for this world."

"You know I can easily bench press you both at the same time, right? I could send you flying across the room if you call me "daddy" one more time and then eat all the pizza by myself" Andy's smile is, however, genuine; he is the dad friend here, he can't let Patrick go out with an empty stomach.

"You wouldn't" Joe intervenes dropping on his boyfriend's lap like a rock, making him growl in pain, "there's bacon on this one." He takes one piece of an all-meat pizza and calls for their third flat mate: "Lynn! Move your gay ass! We have dinner!"

A door yanks open down the corridor and a girl with light brown half-shaved hair runs towards them and throws her arms around Andy's neck hugging the couple at the same time.

"Thank you, daddy! I don't remember the last time we had dinner!"

"Honestly, fuck all of you"

They gulf down their pizza pretty fast while discussing the most pressing issues of the moment ("so, me forgetting plans means I only have my work clothes") and the possible solutions for this mini-crisis ("yes, Lynn; fuck heteronormativity but I still don't wanna wear any of your crop tops"), which ends in the blond wearing Joe's only clean t-shirt: an exact replica of Andy's chest and back tattoos ("why do you even own this?"). He also puts his brown shirt with the store logo on top of it 'cause the skin looks too convincing and a little unsettling for him.

It takes them longer than usual to get ready but the boys finally leave the flat, leaving Lynn alone to "keep killin' it with this inspiration streak." They head towards The Parachute, a small place with cheap beer and good music halfway from Brendon's apartment. It became their favorite pub after Frank, the owner, started treating them to free rounds every now and then. They know it's because he is trying to use them to get close to Gerard, but Frank doesn't say a word not to startle other clients and the group has learned the hard way how mad he gets when they mention his crush.

However, tonight the place is dead; Frank has been sitting at the bar for hours, texting and sipping the same beer since they came in, and there's a new bartender, a skinny guy with hipster glasses and a scruff who keeps looking awkwardly at their table. Two boys and a girl with angry looks are in the only other occupied table barely saying a word. The air is so tense it's almost impossible to keep a nice conversation and Joe has only drank a quarter of his shots so they all jump out of their seat when Brendon suggests to keep the bet in a nearby club.

This is... Different. Patrick likes having a beer with his friends, talking, laughing, drinking and sitting, meaning a club is not a place where he would feel comfortable. Daniel's Den, not honoring its name, only has four stools at the bar and of course all of them are taken. The music is loud, the air is hot and someone dropped their drink in the only free spot they found so the floor is sticky. Patrick starts sweating so he takes off the shirt; Andy has already done the same thing the moment they came in because, well, he is Andy. Brendon and Joe are at the bar ordering when Patrick's phone buzzes in his pocket:  
"jus saw 2 dudz with da exact same back tats htfitep??"

It takes him a moment to decipher what it says, until he sees Pete's name on top of it and his still developing mental translator kicks in:

"weird. what do they have?"

"'s lik a red demon face wih a crown or sthing + big jewel. insane cool shit"

"sounds like an epic friendship. or a horrible mistake"

"Here's a fucking virgin San Francisco..." Joe comes back with half of their drinks and pats his boyfriend's back. And in that precise moment, as the hand of one man uncovers the blue jewel tattooed on the demon's crown of the other man, that's when Patrick feels the earth disappear underneath him.

This can't be happening. Not tonight, not here, and not like this: in a stinky hole with a crazy English DJ and wearing a friend's skin is not an acceptable way of meeting him again. Pete deserves better; he belongs somewhere nicer like a museum, or a coffee shop, or a messy bed, or a bus. Or maybe he actually only belongs to Patrick's fantasies, too much of a wonder to be found out in the wild. Anyway, he's been frozen for the last minute and it's time to react.

"Shit shitshitshit. He's here!"

"Who's here?"

"Him! Cute Pókemon Guy!"

“Ash?” questions Joe.

“Costello?” continues Brendon looking around, scared of facing his ex.

“No, what the fuck!? The guy, the… How did you called…? The polite guy. From the bus”

“The guy that moved seats?” Joe is still lost.

“Go talk to him!” Brendon’s looking excited now.

“Who are we talking about?” Andy looks at the three of them alternatively, confused.

Brendon explains the whole story in excruciating detail, most of them made up, while Patrick tries to hide himself in a corner waiting for his friend to finish lying: "And he just sent me this"

He shows the text to a captivated crowd, hoping they'll come up with some miracle to deal with the embarrassment, but instead he gets mixed reactions:

"You got his number??"

"What language does he even write?"

"He likes art. I like him"

Patrick is simply bursting: "You guys don't get it at all, do you? There is this dude, this ONE dude that pays me attention for the first time in so fucking long and we have this cute little routine and it's silly but it is OURS and it works and now you want me to change it because I'm wearing an ugly shi...?" "It's not u..." "It's ugly as hell, Joe, don't you dare to say otherwise, it is so fucking ugly, I wouldn't say it if it hadn't nipples but it does! And it's. So. Creepy, Joe, why do you have this shit? And why am I wearing it? At a club! With dance music! I'm supposed to be a rock elitist, d'you know that? How in the flying fuck am I supposed to keep my "only pure rock" face if I'm at a dance club wearing my friend's skin?????"

The group falls in an awkward silence, half open mouths and drinks on hands frozen on their way up. Even the people next to them tries to cover up the sudden quietness with an uncontrollable need for singing right now. Patrick is breathing in, 1, 2, 3, and breathing out, 3, 2, 1, trying to regain his composure.

"God, I am an asshole, aren't I?"

"The king of assholery, but we love you anyway" Andy is the first one replying, breaking the tension with it. "By the way, you do realize none of us told you to go interact with him, right? Keep your bus fantasy or do whatever the fuck you want man, but don't blame us."

"You didn't tell me to talk with him? Really?" Patrick could have sworn he heard those words, but how can he even know?

"No I didn't. Did you, Joe?" Andy answers.

"No, I didn't. Did you, Brendon?"

"No, I didn't. Did you, weird girl that's been listening to our conversation?" A splash of pink and black runs away towards the exit. "Well, that's it; none of us said anything. Now shut up, don't turn around and enjoy the show."

Patrick grumbles for a bit but settles in the end. Doing his best not to look at the dance floor just in case, he takes his phone and discovers Pete sent another text:

"shorter tatz dud 's very passionate abt smthin'. hypotsis: tatz bros are tatz bfs, frendz confronted 'em an he's telling hell nver regrt it cuz theyre soulm8s”

Patrick puts the phone down and a small smile escapes his lips, starting to feel not as bad as minutes before. It’s always been this way: he explodes over any minor inconvenience throwing whoever to the mud and then he immediately feels sorry. He is so glad for having such great friends that put up with him, he doesn’t even know how to express his love. So instead he just gives Joe the money to buy the next round of shots, no way he’s going to risk being seen on his way to the bar.

After a while, when they’ve all gone back to the scheduled good mood and Brendon is nowhere to be seen probably dancing his feet off with some random person, Patrick is observing Joe and thinking how Brendon was right: shot after shot his friend is becoming more of a show, trying to come up with ways of proving he’s not absolutely drunk. And unsurprisingly failing.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a week since Patrick escaped unnoticed from Daniel’s Den, and he and Pete have been texting nonstop ever since. They talk about their families, what’s going on at work, they send memes, discuss music, and enjoy each other company even those two days that Pete stays at home sick. This Friday Patrick’s body is ready for doing absolutely nothing while his mind is willing to comply, so he calls Gabe to come over and prepares for a night of bad TV.

And so the night passes in a haze of 37 dips and Doritos, hot dogs and people on the screen dying because of sex, sausages, saxophones and sleeping bags, among other seemingly not dangerous situations.

“No dude, I always choose. It’s your turn.”

“Ay, yo qué sé… Pilla the first thing you see, I don’t care too much.” They decided to play some video games after the third episode of Murderous Children. “Besides, si siempre acabamos playing Mario Kart, we should just start with it.”

“Say no more” replies Patrick practicing his winning grin, the one he knows he’ll use later when Gabe loses miserably. But his phone has apparently more to say and it demonstrates it by beeping loudly.

“’m so scared rn”

“why? what happened?”

“Patrick, you’re sitting on the case” but he can’t hear his friend.

“how mny Murdrous Childs eps r 2 much?”

“dude, me and gabe were also watching it like 5 seconds ago”

“Patrick, you’re crushing la caja” Patrick is very receptive of everything going around him, as long as ‘everything’ is just one thing.

“nd u still wannab a dad?”

“I won’t have a chainsaw in my closet, though”

“PATRICK!!!!!!” he finally looks up to find Gabe holding some band aids.

“What? Give me just two seconds.”

“My beloved friend, you just broke Mario’s case by putting your sweet ass over it. Are you in need of my medical help?”

“Oh shit!” Patrick gets up like a bolt and examines the damage: yes, the case is irrecoverable but the disk doesn’t have a scratch. He cleans the plastic bits, his face red with embarrassment, while Gabe prepares the game. When everything is finally settled in, Patrick checks the phone one last time:

“who would actually need a chsaw?”

“a murderous child?” His eyes find Gabe waiting, bored to death. “I’m typing goodnight, I promise!”

“gotta go, we’re playing Mario kart even though I sat on the case and broke it”

“ave a good winnin’ nite ‘n hit me up if u need a butt massage ;P”

“gabe lost to my granny. Twice. good night, talk tomorrow?”

“write 2morrow. G’night”

Gabe would prefer not to comment anymore except after winning two rounds he feels there’s something weird and asks his friend:

“So, you were texting Pete again, huh?”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“My friend, mi querido imbécil, you’re always so caught up in the clouds when you talk to him you don’t notice the shit around you”

“That’s not true!” Patrick tries to defend himself. “Don’t make shit up, you’ve never seen me talking to him”

“No? Like, last Sunday, when you spent two hours texting and ignoring me? That wasn’t him? Besides, Jack told me you always make that enamored face when you text Pete”

“I don’t make…” the blond is pretty confused right now. “I haven’t seen Jack in like a month, what would he know?”

“Jack told me that Ashton told him that Lynn said to Brian that she had come to know about your lovey-dovey faces thanks to Joe” Gabe recited the names counting with his fingers, careful not to miss anyone.

“So all of our friends are snitches? Is that it? And who the fuck is Ashton?”

“Jack’s landlady’s son. He goes to drumming lessons with Brian o alguna mierda por el estilo”

Patrick takes a long soothing breath and exhales loudly.

“Each day I hate humanity a little bit more” he murmurs before returning to their game.

 

On Monday Pete gets up to let Patrick seat next to the open window, looking down to read his homemade t-shirt with the text “IF YOU KNOW ME I PROBABLY HATE YOU”. He had painted it on a plain white shirt on last Friday right after his conversation with Gabe and wore it for the rest of the night. But this morning when he showed it to his workmates, and especially Joe, Gerard loved it so much he made him a new one with his recently purchased clothing printer. Why would they need a clothing printer at a music story was something that escaped everybody’s mind, but Gerard was sure it belonged there, right next to the pasta maker. Pete starts typing, looking intrigued:

“I’m on dat list?”

“Of people I hate?” Patrick looks down to remember the exact text. “No, you’re not. It’s just the rest of my friends and their inability of keeping their mouths shut”

“so ther’s a storie 4 it”

“It’s just embarrassing shit, I won’t bother you”

“embarrsin was when tyler startd singin’ hopelessly devoted 2 u evrytim he was around me nd ryan and then all our frendz did 2 ‘til they forced us to a date”

Their friends had popped up on their previous conversations, so Patrick knows what’s wrong with it:

“The ‘more of a brother than a friend’ Ryan? Gee, that’s gross!”

“was so weird… went to da theatre an got burgewrs, same shit as alwayz xcept we held handz 4 lik a minut. Turns out it wasn luv” Pete smiles at him reassuringly. “but we prove’em wrong an so u kan do”

“Well, my friends haven’t gotten to that point yet, but it’s just…” His breath jumps for a second when Pete squeezes his hand that was until now resting on his own knee, desperately trying to play it cool, while a loud ‘GET IT OUT’ can be read on the screen. “Joe started this rumor that I like a friend and I even heard it from Jack, who hasn’t met Joe and… And everybody takes that I like the guy for granted which is stupid ‘cause I don’t but I-I don’t know wh-what…”

“& u sure u don lik ‘em?”

“Aw, come on, not you too! I am very sure!” Patrick knows he’s close to one of his outbursts but tries to hold it, scared of scaring Pete.

“I mean, ure tellin’ me all of da names but this guy so… who’s ‘em?”

“It’s stupid, you’ll laugh at me”

“if it so stoopid I’ll lagh with u”

Patrick holds his breath for a few seconds before murmuring something unintelligible.

“repeat plis?”

“it’s you”

“still can’t hear u”

“It’s you, okay?” Patrick can’t stop looking at the back of the seat in front of him; he knows Pete must be trying his best not laugh, as a decent friend who feels pity for him would do; so he focuses on the signatures scribbled in the plastic seat until Pete taps his shoulder as a way to make him look at his phone:

“but hun, we don need no fake dates 2 kno we’re soulm8s. ull always ‘ave my lov”

A few seconds later Patrick receives a text on his own phone simply saying “♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ so u can phisicaly hold my heart”

“they hav any prof agains u 2make it up?”

“Joe says I smile a lot when we text, which only proves what little work he does”

“that cuz im a comedic genius. show ‘em my dms”

“Not sure if he would understand the intricate comedic complexity of ‘tengo un Pepe repe’” Pete tries to hold his laugh and, as always, fails. Ever since they found out the both speak a minimum level of Spanish –Pete because he studied it, Patrick because he’s learnt a lot of different things thanks to Gabe- they’ve been sharing some puns in both languages, feeling way cooler than they actually are in being able to do so.

 

Patrick’s birthday is fast approaching and he would love to spend it at home: just him, his closest friends, a movie and popcorn; he doesn’t need a big party right now, that’s what Brendon’s birthday was for. And he definitely doesn’t want to repeat the whole “paintball in formal attire” thing that Gerard’s work celebration turned into.

He plans movie night for Saturday, but by Tuesday Brendon is already twitching and jumping excited as if he had an obvious big secret that he doesn’t know how to hide. He demands to know the exact guests list –Gabe, Brendon himself, Joe and Andy- and wants to know why some other people like Lynn or Alex and Jack are not invited –“I told you, closest friends; it’s a small living room.”

“Okay” Brendon nods, pretending to accept it. “What about Pete? Doesn’t he qualify as a close friend?”

Patrick mutters something about not wanting to mix different groups of friends and how awkward it would be being there, not knowing anyone. His workmate knows him enough to be sure he’s projecting his own insecurities, though.

“Aaaaawwww, but we all wanna meet your Cute Pókemon Guy!”

“Stop calling him that! He hasn’t played in weeks and he’s definitely not mine” Patrick blurts with all shades of blush on his face.

“Yeah, and you know that ‘cause he’s cute and you guys haven’t stopped talking ever since”

“Actually, he never talks; he only types and texts”

“Really? He never said anything?” Patrick shakes his head at the question and Brendon shrugs his disbelief off “Weird. Whatever. You never denied he’s cute!”

A statement that is followed by Patrick chasing him all around the store trying to hit him with a hideous ceramic guitar with roses until a customer comes by the door and they have to pretend they’re adults.

 

When Patrick gets to the bus he’s too absorbed in his own thoughts he just smiles lazily at Pete and goes to his old corner. When he plugs on his earphones and the anguish cries of Tyler Joseph start flooding his mind he realizes what he’s done, but Pete is already texting someone so maybe it’s not the right moment to talk. He doesn’t even know what to say, honestly, as “next week is my birthday and I don’t know if I should invite you to the celebration” doesn’t sound too well. So yeah, maybe he should think about it.

The problem is, Brendon is more a man of action than of thought, and also a man of quickly stealing his friend’s phone and copying the number he needs. Which means that yes, he is the one that Pete is confusedly texting right now. But who wouldn’t be confused after receiving a text saying:

“reply when Patrick CAN’T SEE THIS”

“who r u? fren or kdnapper?”

“Mr. BRENDON URIE right here, owner of perfect hair and patrick’s BEST friend, apparently  
I’m the one preparing his SURPRISE birthday PARTY so I’m claiming the title”

“partay? Im in!!!!!!  
Wen?  
Where?  
I ave to buy ‘nythin?”

“well, THANK YOU, that was the answer I was lookingfor  
Now, my dear cute pokemon guy, I hope you know where THE PARACHUTE is,as it is the only place we can LURE PATRICK without risingany suspicion”

Pete takes a look behind him before googling it, making sure that Patrick is still wrapped up in his own world. He receives another text before he can reply:

“FRIDAY at 10 or we will cast you out ofhis life”

“x my ♥ ”

 

It’s around midnight when Brendon receives another text from Pete:

“cute pokemon guy???”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has to be the birthday, obviously, and i hope to clarify some very important stuff. But after that please help me


	4. Chapter 4

“C’mon, pizza and Parachute, one beer and you’re home” Joe’s been nagging Patrick about how much he wants to go out tonight for the whole day, while Brendon’s been sighting and saying he’d love to have a night out ‘with his closest friends only’, a statement followed always by a wink towards Joe.

So of course Patrick ends up going grocery shopping with Brendon, buying some time before dinner and sending ‘save me I’m trapped’ texts that Pete answers with laughing emojis and asking for pictures to prove it. He finally gives in when they get to the apartment and asks his friend to tie him to a chair using two jackets, making it as fake as possible. While Brendon’s putting away all the stuff he bought and doing a lot of noise with pans and pots, he even draws a newspaper to hold in another picture, making sure the date is clear.

“What’s that smell?” he realizes Brendon’s been awfully quiet during his drawing session so he goes to the kitchen to investigate. “Dude, you’re cooking!”

“Well, I am the master of pizza, there’s no way you can order anything as good as this”

“Of course you are, you horrible perfect fucker. Is this homemade?” Patrick asks pointing at two almost empty bowls of tomato sauce.

“Yeah… Plain and hot, actually. C’mon, keep an eye on the oven, I gotta go get ready” it always takes 40 seconds and a comb or two hours and a pile of pants on the floor to change his clothes, so Patrick excuses himself and steals him a shirt just in case “later” is too late.

An hour later, after taking the first bite of a prosciutto, lamb’s lettuce and buffalo mozzarella pizza, Patrick has to compliment his friend’s cooking skills:

“You know? If I didn’t love you so much, I would fall in love right now”

 

But it’s a little while before that they arrive to Joe’s apartment –or, as he likes to call it, “No-Straight Maison”- and they sit down with the flat mates and Gabe. His best friend is so low on cash lately that the last time he left Evanston was probably a year ago, celebrating Patrick’s birthday, and he doesn’t even know his other friends that much and yet there he is. With that and Brendon questioning him all week, it’s hard to pretend he doesn’t suspect a surprise party.

After a couple vows of “never ordering takeout ever again, we’re gonna kidnap you and turn you into our pizza slave” and enjoying the first slices in silence, Patrick pops the question he’s been dreading:

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I don’t know; we could go to the pub? Have some beers, maybe Frank’s in the mood and picks the guitar… Just relax?” Joe tries to come up with something similar to their every weekend, even if it clashes with what he said he wanted in the afternoon.

“No, I mean… Should I wait at the door for a bit? Or do you want me to leave later so you can prepare whatever?”

“You mean, like a surprise party?” Andy is the best one at pretending they don’t know what he’s talking about. “There’s no such thing as that!”

“Yeah? What’s Gabe doing here?”

“Every girl needs a sassy straight friend” Lynn deadpans.

“Gabe? ‘Lynn’ is the short form of what?”

“Lynncedes? I don’t know, tío, they offered me free pizza y cerveza and I said yes; no party on the talk” Gabe raises his hands in the air, a way to prove his innocence, and Patrick actually believes him. Gabe’s eyes are glistening with truth.

“Okay” Patrick smirks before his final question. “Should we go right after we eat?”

“NO!” Brendon and Joe shout in unison, and Joe continues “Let’s watch something good” at the same time Lynn offers to put some music. Mixing both gives them The Jungle Book as their first and preferred option.

Next comes Emperor’s New Groove, and halfway through Arizona Baby (Netflix recommendations have been quite strange lately) they start getting ready. Patrick is feeling so comfy on the couch, he wishes they didn’t have to go out; this would have truly been his ideal birthday celebration. But he’s also sure that whatever is waiting for him at the pub, his friends have worked hard to prepare it, and he cannot possibly spoil it for them.

 

While the others were changing clothes, Patrick opened Facebook and saw an event The Parachute had organized tonight. The “Super Special Party For No Particular Reason” is probably why the place is so packed when they arrive: dozens of bodies can be seen through the window dancing, chatting, and having just a good time. The door opens from the inside and a blond kid with a though-wannabe look ushers them inside pointing to a makeshift wardrobe and helping them with their jackets.

“So you must be Patrick, right?” Brendon confirms it and the kid makes a sign at Frank, who changes the music from Bruce Springsteen to A Very Merry Unbirthday To You. Patrick laughs it off and even sings along before realizing the new bartender is already serving him his favorite beer. “You found a gem, Frank” He thinks. “Please keep him.”

“I promise you, no sabía a single thing about this” Gabe assures his best friend after claiming a spot at the bar. “I mean, I knew there was something fishy when I saw Brendon was calling, y más aún when he asked me to come here, pretty please. But this? This is a surprise for me too.”

“Dude, stop it, I believed you the first time you said it. It’s cool. It’s… It’s actually pretty chill for a Brendon party so… Nah, it’s cool. I’m glad you’re here, I missed my drinking buddy.” Gabe jumps off his stool and hugs him bear-style, fighting his tears back. Back when they both used to live together, they would go for a drink every other weekend, much to Patrick’s reluctance who always ends up having friends much more outgoing than him. Then Gabe lost his job and had to go back to his parent’s house where their economy is pretty bad, so pub nights transformed into couch nights. This party is just as important for Gabe than it is for Patrick, a night out with his best friend, forbidding himself to think of any problem.

They sit there for a long while, chatting, laughing their asses off and enjoying the view: the kid that opened the door (Lynn said his name was Ashton and Patrick remembered him as part of the gossiping train) is talking with a short haired blonde girl and flexing his biceps in the least subtle flirting possible; said girl looks completely unimpressed and way more interested in the bowl of chips right next to him. Andy and Joe are being the happy goofs they always are when they think no one sees them, all little touches here and there and big smiles, while playing darts. Jack runs up to Patrick and manages to exclaim that “I thought your Cute Pokémon Guy would be here!” before Alex drags him away and reprimands him for asking “sensitive shit, let them figure out their feelings on their own.” Some regular customers that he doesn’t know are here too, like the girl and the two guys from that last time Patrick was at The Parachute; this time she is furiously kissing the one with the curls while the other absentmindedly plays with his drink trying not to pay them attention, but also with a grin on his face that screams “I knew it.” Brendon is on the other side of the room, sending quick glances at someone behind them and shyly looking away almost immediately. Brendon is…

“I don’t know your friend Brendon muy bien,” Gabe interrupts Patrick’s train of thought “but he doesn’t strike me as the shy type of guy, am I wrong?”

“Yeah, he’s a bisexual clone of you.”

“So, if he’s me, he’s really interested in this someo…” Gabe looks discreetly at the object of Brendon’s desire and points him to Patrick. “This guy.”

They both follow for a while the staring contest that Brendon and the hipster bartender have unintentionally started, the two contestants daring to smile at each other at some point. But then the bartender’s eyes find someone else, making him smile fondly and shouting “Bro, here!” while making lots of signs with his hands. Great at his job, good looking and knows sign language, the guy’s a catch.

Soon, while pretending not to be looking at the bartender, Patrick realizes he’s being pointed at, so he concentrates on his beer and tries to magically become the most innocent person the world has ever seen. A shadow rapidly comes close to him and a phone screen shows up behind his nose:

“so uve met my bro ryan”

“Pete?” Patrick’s heart stops for a couple seconds before he turns around and sees his favorite brown eyes. Pete’s here, for fucks sake, and he’s frozen!

“Pete?” Gabe comes to the rescue. “THE famous Pete? The one I’ve never heard about because Patrick won’t stop texting you long enough to talk about you?” Maybe he’s not coming to the rescue precisely.

“really hopin’ dat’s me”

“So how do you call yourself my mejor amigo and never told me Pete is a mute?”

“I never realized” Patrick mutters shrinking his head to his shoulders. “It clicked right now when I saw Ryan signaling. So he’s your Ryan?” He asks pointing at the bartender who is taking advantage of the open bar rule for tonight and inviting Brendon to a drink.

“da 1 nd only. And u his gabe?” Pete writes and shows to, well, Gabe.

“In the flesh, hermano” He answers, and then goes on, looking confused at Patrick. “You never realized the guy you were talking every day is a mute? What is wrong with you?”

Gabe and Pete are both staring at their common friend; just like the girl with pink and black hair who has been eavesdropping their conversation. Patrick needs the Earth to open and eat him right now.

“I… I thought you were like… Like shy or something? And you… You didn’t like talking in public?”

“do I lookshy?”

“You, my new only sane friend, are quite the opposite of shy” Gabe comments.

“when u called m an I textd I couldn’t talk?”

“I thought you meant you were busy.”

“when I said I cant pronounce 0thing?”

“I thought you were slurring for whatever reason.”

“ehn I said I was mute?”

“That you had your phone silenced? I don’t know! I just… It’s all making sense now, actually”

“You can bet it is. I’m leaving you, my sassy lesbian friend needs me. Goodbye, lovebirds.” Patrick makes an attempt to complain at Gabe’s nickname and starts a “we’re not…” before his friend interrupts him. “Yeah, not yet. Whatever.”

Pete hops on the newly vacant stool and Patrick tries to downplay Gabe’s words. “He’s just… He’s kidding, he’s always kidding.”

“I kno, got it we’re totally superduper frenz ;p”

 

Saturday night ended up being just Patrick and Gabe, the first one avoiding at all costs talking about Pete, and the second one trying not to kill his best friend for being so secretive. After a weekend of barely texting and a Monday of “How the fuck didn’t you know?” the next time Patrick sees Pete is Tuesday, his actual birthday, at the bus. His face goes red when Pete picks a bag to let him sit, but he still manages to sign a “Hi, how are you?” without his hands shaking too much. Pete laughs and starts making lots of signs that Patrick has to stop:

“I’m sorry; I only got the ‘fine’ part. I signed up for some classes but they start next week”

“’s okay, is great u doin’ da efort. Lots of people don’t”

“Well, you’re my friend; I’d be an asshole if I didn’t at least try.”

“yeah, I work with assholes; 0 of ‘em knows how 2 sign ‘hello’”

“That’s bullshit, man” Patrick murmurs in shared anger.

“yes…” They share a moment of silence before Pete remembers the bag he’s holding and shoves it in Patrick’s lap, “here, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!”

“Aw, shit, Pete. You didn’t have to buy me anything; it’s fine.“ He opens the bag, unwraps the paper and finds a tin lunchbox with a picture of two parakeets, their beaks and tails touching and giving them the shape of a heart. “Wow. This is… This is so cute, man. Thank you.” Patrick is really touched by the gift, even if it is one of the tackiest things he has ever seen.

“donnut worry, my dude, I know its ugly af. But I saw it on Saturday an remined me of gabe”

“Gabe? In MY birthday?”

“’s more likely than u think. Yeah, gab eand his lovebirds”

“Oh.”

“cuz tbh I din’t know why I like being with u so much ‘till he said it but I do. An now I know I like u, like forreal like u, and ur frendz have told me enough 2 b 97% sure u like me too, an 2day I didn’t even need to take da bus but I wanted 2 see u so would u pleaz go on a date with me?”

While Patrick takes his time reading, Pete for once looks nervous, chewing his bottom lip and tapping a rhythm on his knee.

“I did that once too” Patrick talks so fast Pete can barely understand him: “I took a bus I didn’t need just to see you weeks ago.” He stops Pete’s tapping by taking his hand with both of his, and has an idea as he sees his stop is close: “I would love to miss my train and have a coffee date with you right now.”

“ur wish=my command”

And hands holding again, they leave the bus blushing like little children.

 

“there was smthing everybody told me on Friday I did’t get” Pete types right after they leave the coffee shop:

“cute Pokémon guy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's done!!!! i just realized, as i was writing it, that i suck at writing endings. but at least, after many half-done fics, i've finished one so personal win (yeeeeah)
> 
> at some point i'll probably write a mini-epilogue, i really want patrick to meet pete's friends. some day...


End file.
